Sexta
by Miss Lullaby
Summary: In which Rayne’s shop has a shortage of guns and Xander buys a sword instead. In which said sword once belonged to someone else. And finally, in which the changes wrought by Halloween are distressingly permanent.
1. In Which Xander Becomes an Espada

**PLEASE READ**: We fully realize that authors' notes are annoying and usually a waste of time, but we feel this one is important and will make it as short as feasible. This story, as you have no doubt noticed, is an unconventional crossover between Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Bleach, though by no means the first.

1) First, it is important that you readers understand that we have actually never seen Buffy. Our knowledge of it has been gleaned from reading numerous fanfictions. Please expect mistakes regarding the Buffyverse canon, some intentional (because this story would be borderline alternate universe even if it wasn't a crossover) and some unintentional. Feel free to point out mistakes.

2)Second, this story was written for our own enjoyment and we originally had no plans to post it here on . However, we believe there may be a few of you who would enjoy reading it so we decided to post it. That being said, it is not polished at all nor has it been revised. We have given only a cursory glance to spelling/grammatical errors, so expect to find both these and the occasional plot hole. Once again, feel free to point out mistakes. Constructive criticism (as well as quick notes about whether or not you, our readers, liked the story) is appreciated.

3)Third, in light of number two, do not expect this story to be updated on any regular basis. Although we are currently working on it at a much greater rate than any of our previous whims, it too is subject to hiatus or abandonment when we get tired of it. However, reviews may sway our feelings.

Thank you for reading our note! (If you indeed did). We hope it has cleared up any misconceptions you may have had. Please enjoy our story!

**DISCLAIMER**: Miss Lullaby does not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Bleach. They are property of Joss Whedon and Tite Kubo, respectively.

**SUMMARY**: In which Rayne's shop has a shortage of guns and Xander buys a sword instead. In which said sword once belonged to someone else. And finally, in which the changes wrought by Halloween are distressingly permanent.

* * *

Xander watched in stunned horror as his young charges transformed into the hideous monsters they had been dressed as moments before. The ones at the door of the old woman's house reached for her with taloned hands. He was about to intervene when a wave of pain swept over him from head to toe.

He stumbled and fell to one knee as the pain intensified. His eyes felt as if someone was viciously grating sandpaper against them. His scalp burned and stung—he swore someone was trying to pull out his hair. Every muscle and bone in his body was being ripped apart and he could barely breathe.

He gasped and choked, trying to get air, but his vocal chords, too, were in agony. The worst of the pain centered on his right cheek and lower abdomen. It was like someone was clawing the skin off his face and digging a hole in his gut simultaneously.

His mind finally had enough and he toppled over, falling into unconsciousness. As his eyes closed, he caught a glimpse of a transparent, blue-haired man with a jawbone attached to his face and a hole through his stomach coming towards him. Then Xander Harris knew nothing.

SEXTA

After waking up to find herself separated from her body and unable to interact with the physical world, Willow's first task was locating Xander. He had been about thirty feet behind her, at the house across the street, when the spell hit.

There was a man-shaped lump of green and blue sprawled in the lawn where Xander must have been standing, and she quickly rushed over, ignoring the howls and shrieks of the newly created monsters for her friend's wellbeing.

As she came within ten feet, she was close enough to see through the darkness that something was very wrong. Xander was lying on his side with his back to her, but her eyes were quick to pick out the changes.

The most obvious was the blue hair. In place of the usual straight, dark brown locks were spiked strands of an unnatural light blue. Xander was taller too, by at least half a foot, and the tightness of the fatigues spoke of broader shoulders and well-developed muscles.

As she came within a few feet, he began to stir. She reached out a hand, forgetting for a moment her intangibility, and then he moved, faster than she could track, than she had thought possible, whirling around and vaulting to one knee, the short katana he had been carrying already drawn and slicing towards her head.

As the very real, very sharp blade passed harmlessly through her head, time seemed to slow, and she got a look at her oldest friend. This could not be Xander! He looked _nothing_ like Xander. His face was leaner, sharper, with piercing blue eyes the same color as his hair. Splashes of teal swept from underneath both narrowed eyes. Blue brows were drown down, brushed by falling strands of the same color hair. The most astonishing feature was the bone half jaw—it looked like it had belonged to some large feline—that was attached to his right cheek.

Then the sword was swinging out the other end, and the man-who-couldn't-be-Xander had an almost comical look on his handsome features. He was on both feet immediately and he leapt almost five feet backwards, his blade coming up in a ready stance as he surveyed her, the other free hand cupped at his side.

"Xander?" Willow asked meekly.

"Guess again," the man replied in a low, husky voice, his mouth twitching into a manic, teeth-baring grin.

"I…I…Xander?" Willow was too stunned to formulate a proper reply.

The man started to look pissed.

"Not him, lady. Grimmjow Jeagerjacques, the Sexta Espada."

_Xander's become his costume!_ Willow realized in horror. Only Xander had dressed as a soldier—but the sword was the same!

"What are you?" Grimmjow asked, "And how can you see me?"

"Well, I, ah, you see, I dressed as a ghost for Halloween—" Grimmjow leered a moment at her scantily clad form, "and I think some sort of spell turned everyone into our costumes! I mean, you're Xander, or you were, only he didn't really dress as you, but the sword—"

Grimmjow held up his free hand.

"Whoa, whoa, kid, slow down. I don't really care. What I wanna know is, there somethin' here for me to fight?"

Willow stared at him blankly. He sighed and sheathed his sword. Then he seemed to notice what he was wearing for the first time. He grimaced and began removing his jacket. Willow had never seen a man strip so fast. In seconds, he was out of both fatigue jacket and the grey t-shirt Xander had worn under it.

Willow was stunned to see a five-inch hole in the center of his lower abdomen, going all the way through his body. He looked at the t-shirt for a minute, than turned in a slow circle, surveying his surroundings. On his back, near his right shoulder, a large number six had been tattooed in black ink.

When he was facing her again, he tossed the shirt to the side and thrust his arms back into the jacket, leaving it open and unbuttoned in the front. She thought she heard him mumble something about "dang uncomfortable shirts."

"So, what now?" He said, turning his attention back to her.

"You said something about a spell. Let's break it so I can get back. I was a little busy before I got thrown here."

So he had been listening! Willow nodded and sighed in relief, then remembered Buffy and a streak of horror flashed through her.

"We have to find Buffy!" Willow cried.

Grimmjow smirked at the name.

"Buffy? What does he have to do with anything?"

"She," Willow corrected, "And she's the Slayer! She's the chosen warrior against demons and vampires."

Grimmjow, for once, looked totally lost.

"One question. What's a vampire?"

SEXTA

For the first time in a very long time, Spike was terrified. He'd managed to gather a contingent of monsters created by the Halloween spell, and together they kidnapped the Slayer, who was now a gibbering, 18th century noble women in a ridiculously extravagant dress.

Then his plan had taken a turn for the worse. The Slayer's little red-headed friend had shown up, dragging a tall, blue-haired man with her—a man who couldn't be human. As soon as she told the man he could fight Spike, a vicious, blood-thirsty gleam had entered his blue eyes and a shit-eating grin spread across his features.

Then he spent the next five minutes toying with Spike like a cat with a trapped mouse. The man was fast—faster than Spike, faster than the Slayer, faster even then his eyes could track. Spike was sporting a number of deep slashes, any one of which could have been fatal to a human if the blue-haired man had cared to cut a little deeper.

Unfortunately, the man seemed to be tiring of the game pretty quickly. Spike got the distinct impression that he had been hoping for a better opponent, which was a terrifying thought in itself. Who could match such a monster?

It also did not bode well for Spike. He had no doubt the man would mercilessly kill him the moment he was done playing.

That moment, thankfully for Spike, never came.

A wave of thick magic swept over the room, and the man's eyes widened in shock before he collapsed in a heap in front of Spike. The red-head disappeared from the corner of the room.

Spike waited a moment before he was sure the guy was really down. Then a broad smile crossed his face and he reached for the man's still body. His hands had just brushed the man's jacket when he was struck from behind by a heavy blow, sending him flying into one of the crumbling walls.

He peered blearily through the dust to see that all his monster minions had returned to crying children, and the Slayer was stalking towards him, a length of pipe slapping against her palm and murder in her eyes.

He decided it was time for a quick getaway.

SEXTA

"It's good to be back," Buffy said, smiling, as she watched Spike escape with his tail between his legs.

"It's good to have you back," Angel murmured.

"We need to get these kids back," Buffy sighed, and then her gaze caught on the blue-haired man who'd been fighting Spike, "and him."

As her eyes raked his form, wondering, she suddenly stiffened. She hadn't been able to place him before, or his costume, but then she recognized his clothes. Those were the fatigues Xander had been wearing…

An icy stillness settled in the pit of her stomach. If that was Xander—then he hadn't changed back. Buffy looked to Angel and saw that he, too, was looking at the other man's unconscious form.

"Willow said that was Xander," he offered, his face wondering.

"This isn't good," Buffy whispered, "We should bring him back to Giles. I'll take the children back to the school. Can you take...Xander…to the library?"

"Alright," Angel nodded, and slung the Xander-that-wasn't across his shoulders.

"I'll be there as soon as I get the kids back safely," Buffy said, and both vampire and Slayer set off to complete their separate tasks.

SEXTA

Xander woke to pain.

Every inch of his body ached. His muscles protested every movement, even the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. He groaned, his eyes flickering.

Someone's footsteps sounded, coming closer, and he made an effort to open his eyes to acknowledge whoever it was. The light hurt his eyes, and everything was blurry, but he was able to make out the tall stacks of books around him and, as his eyesight began to clear, he realized he was lying on a couch in the library.

He had a splitting headache and the last thing he remembered was—

_Kurosaki streaking towards him, his slim, black Zanpakuto devouring the light around it, nearly thrumming with reiatsu. The boy's seething eyes, yellow on black, half mad, surrounded by the white bone of his mask. The cold sky and bleak sands of Hueco Mundo between them, a poor buffer—_

—stopping in the lawn of one of the last houses on the block as his young charges marched up to the door to receive more candy. Then pain, and blackness.

He groaned again—it sounded horrible, a raw slip of agony. Willow's face appeared in his line of vision, her eyes bright with worry and her brow furrowed.

He raised an arm to block out the ceiling lights, despite the protests of his muscles.

"Wills?" He muttered, his voice unnaturally low and husky.

"Xander? Is it you?" A note of hope entered her voice at the end.

Xander wanted to ask why she had thought it was someone else, but he had suddenly become aware of something very alarming. His free hand had moved to massage his temples when it had bumped into something smooth and hard on the way there.

He fell silent as his fingers explored the uneven mass attached to his face. They slipped over the edge and gently pried, trying to lift it off. No good. It stuck.

His mind was clearing now, and he realized with rising horror that something was _very_ wrong with him.

"Wills? What's…?" He trailed off. That was _not_ his voice. He had dismissed it before because of his pain and grogginess, but it was undeniable now. Willow had stepped back, allowing him some room, a worried look on his face.

Xander propped himself up on his elbows and looked down. The body stretched out before his eyes was drastically different than the one he had seen when he last looked in a mirror.

He was missing his t-shirt, and his jacket was open, so his eyes followed the lines of lean, defined muscle, corded and toned from some sort of intense althletic activity. His gaze stopped at the lower abdomen, where a five inch hole ran through his stomach.

He swallowed hard. The mahogany upholstery of the couch was visible through the hole.

His head whipped back up to Willow, whose hands were covering her mouth, her eyes wet with tears.

"Wills? I…what's happened to me?"

"Xander…you…he…"

At that moment Buffy, still in her noblewoman's dress, and Giles, looking worried, entered the room. Both pairs of eyes riveted immediately to him, drawn like a magnet.

"Xander?" Giles asked, and Xander noted immediately the note of uncertainty in the librarian's voice.

"G-man, what's going on?" Xander asked, his growing fear kindling impatience.

Buffy stepped forward, her eyes on his body, a frown gracing her features.

Giles adjusted his glasses and began to explain.

"Ethan Rayne—the owner of the shop you bought your costumes from—is a wizard. He cast some sort of spell that caused everyone to change into their costumes. But you… from what Willow told us, that sword once belonged to a real person, and you, well, he possessed you."

"He said his name was Grimmjow Jeagerjacques… and he was, um, the Sex Espadin?" Willow finished softly, unsure.

"Sexta Espada," Xander corrected, and wondered how he knew. He didn't remember anything of when he had been possessed.

"Well," Giles continued, "Everyone else turned back when I broke the spell… but you didn't."

He fell silent, and Xander swallowed thickly.

"I want a mirror," He said, so quiet the others almost didn't hear him.

"What? Xander!" Buffy said, surprised.

"Get me a mirror!" Xander barked, and Willow jumped.

Buffy nodded, left the room, and returned a moment later with a handheld mirror.

Xander got to his feet and swayed. He was taller… a lot taller. He took a slow step, unsure of himself, and reached out for the mirror. Buffy looked at him, gauging his determination, then reluctantly placed the mirror in his hand.

Xander raised it to his face quickly before he could lose his nerve.

What he saw almost caused him to fall back down onto the coach.

It was not him. He was not himself anymore.

The face in the mirror was the surprised visage of a man in his early twenties, a lean, sharp-angled face with slightly slanted, hard blue eyes and upward sweeping eyebrows. Splashes of teal swept up from underneath his eyes, drawing his gaze to his now spiky blue hair.

And, attached to his right cheek, was the naked jaw bone of some large feline.

"What am I?" Xander whispered quietly, watched the thin lips of that handsome face move in tandem with his voice.

SEXTA

Getting the hand of his new body was proving to be a lot harder than Xander had thought it would be. He had already smacked his head twice (due to his new height)—once on the top of Giles' car as he got in, and then again on the door frame of the apartment complex when they entered.

When they got to Giles' apartment door, Xander ducked, and avoided further head trauma. The smile that lit his face was very Grimmjow-esque.

After some awkward silence in the library, it had been decided that they would meet again the next day (it was Saturday) and decide what to do about Xander's new appearance. For now, Xander was staying the night at Giles' apartment.

He could hardly go home like this. His parents wouldn't notice if he didn't come home (at this time of night, they would already be in an alcoholic stupor), but they _would_ notice if a strange, blue-haired man walked into their house like he lived there.

So here they were, in the living room of Giles' apartment, Xander sitting wearily on the couch where he would be sleeping and the librarian rummaging through a closet for some extra blankets.

On the end table was a pile of clothes Angel had lent Xander. The thought of wearing something as broody as Deadboy's clothes was mortifying, but it was better than any of his old clothes, which would never fit now, and which he had no way of getting at either.

Giles came through the doorway with an armful of blankets and a pillow and plopped them down on the couch next to Xander.

"Do you need anything else?" The Librarian asked, trying to be cheery.

"No," Xander said heavily, still getting used to the new sound of his voice.

"Do you want something to eat? Or a bath?"

"I just want to go to bed," Xander replied.

And it was true. His body still ached horribly, and although the headache had lessened, it had not disappeared entirely. And more than even his physical weariness, he longed for a few hours of blissful unconsciousness, where he could forget for a bit what had happened that night.

"Alright," Giles said softly, "If you need anything, I'll be in my bedroom."

Xander nodded and the older man walked away down the hall. A moment later a light flicked on in the direction he had taken. Xander curled up on the couch, pausing only to haphazardly cover himself with a blanket, before falling into a heavy sleep.

SEXTA

He woke up the next morning to the sounds of someone banging around in the kitchen. He was, unfortunately, still sore, but he thought it was something he could deal with. He sat up, blinking the sleep out of his eyes, and looked over to the kitchen where Giles was making pancakes.

The other man caught sight of him and smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry for waking you up. Would you like a shower before breakfast?"

"Yeah," Xander said, his tongue thick and his voice rough.

Giles turned the burner heat off and motioned for the young man to follow him. Xander stood up, wobbled, caught himself, then grabbed the pile of clothes before heading after his host.

The bathroom was small, but clean, and Giles left him to his own devices after getting him a towel and showing him how to work the shower. Xander started when he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. He grimaced, and watched in fascination as his reflection, his new face, made the expression.

The next several minutes were spent making faces at himself in the mirror. He noticed an arrogance in this face—every expression he made carried a sense of self-confidence and almost superiority. That and all his smiles were now decidedly more sinister grins.

Then he began to peel off the dirty fatigues, watching as more and more of his new body was revealed. When it was done, he stood staring at his new body, dumbfounded.

Whoever Grimmjow had been, he had spent a lot of time in some sort of intense physical activity. Xander's new body was in excellent shape—he was broad-shouldered and tall, with the lean but defined muscles of a serious athlete. There was not an inch of fat or excess skin. It was really an impressive display. The hole, however, was more than a little disconcerting.

Not for the first time, Xander wondered what sort of being Grimmjow had been. Tracing his fingers along its edge, he discovered it was more sensitive than the rest of him. Not in a painful way, just…different. He briefly contemplated sticking his hand in the hole, than decided he wasn't brave enough to try that yet. He could foresee shirts being uncomfortable in the future.

With his spirits just a little higher, he got in the shower and turned the water to nearly scalding. He spent almost a half hour just enjoying the way the water loosened his muscles and ran down his skin. He wasn't used to the jawbone on his face, and kept knocking into while trying to wash his hair, but eventually he was clean, and after a vigorous session with a towel, dry.

He slipped on his boxers from the night before—even if Angel _had_ left him some, he wouldn't have wanted to wear them—and contemplated the items of clothing before him.

There was a pair of dark grey jeans, some dark socks, and a non-descript black t-shirt. Not too bad. Except it was all depressingly dark.

_Though I suppose I would look incredibly silly in my regular shirts with this blue hair_, Xander thought as he dressed.

The clothes fit (better than the fatigues had, at least) and Xander left the bathroom and made his way to the kitchen.

Giles was sitting at the adjoining dining room table and had a plate piled high with pancakes ready for him. They ate in silence. Xander was just glad the food didn't come trickling out of his new hole. They could figure out _why_ it didn't later.

After that, it was time to meet up with everyone at the library.

"You should probably sit in the back," Giles observed when they got to his car in the complex garage.

Xander agreed that this was a good idea.

He could already tell that it was going to be a long day.

SEXTA

As it turned out, they were the last ones to arrive at the library. It took some creativity, but they were able to get Xander inside without being seen. Of course, it helped that it was 9:00 am on a Saturday morning.

When Giles and Xander entered the main room, they were greeted with the sight of Buffy, Willow, and Oz (the former two crouch over a table spread with papers and a laptop). All three looked up at the sound of the doors.

Their faces were a mixture of expressions. Oz, the only one who had yet to see Xander's new look, was the calmest, with his usual bored expression set on his face. The only difference was a sliver of curiosity flickering in his eyes. Buffy looked stunned, but she quickly masked it with her business face. Willow's face was morose, her dark eyes slightly wet.

Giles, thank the Lord, was quick to diffuse any tears. He strode ahead of Xander and over to the table.

"So, have you found anything yet?" He asked.

Willow sniffled once, then put on her Resolve Face and pointed at the screen.

"We've only been here for twenty minutes, but we did google 'sextin espad—"

"Sexta Espada," Buffy corrected.

"—right, 'Sexta Espada.' It's Spanish. It means 'sixth sword.'"

Xander, now standing a few feet from the table, nodded and mouthed the words silently. A tingle ran up his spine and he shuddered, his hand groping involuntarily for the sword he's strapped to his waist.

"It might be some sort of military term," Giles mused, his hand on his chin, "Maybe this Grimmjow fellow was part of some elite unit."

"There are ten of us…" Xander murmured, his eyes far away, and everyone turned to stare at him, "Diez Espada under Aizen-sama. And I'm…Grimmjow was…_we_ are the sixth. Espada Numero Seis."

"Xander?" Buffy queried, cautiously.

"_I_ am the Sexta Espada!" Xander hissed, his knuckles white as his hand gripped his sword.

But his eyes were still far away, remembering…

…_the strange feeling of having an arm again, of watching his fingers flex and curl as the strawberry-brunette—Orihime!—backed away in awe and fear, her fairies flitting back into her hair clips. And Luppi, that smug smile faltering, and the sickly sweet taste of future revenge as he laughed manically and gathered his reiatstu to his new hand, forming a massive…_

Xander gasped, gripped his head in two shaking hands, and bent over.

Willow was at his side in an instant, her slight hands flying over his back, arms, checking for wounds.

"Xander! Xander!" was all she could say.

He looked up at her, his eyes clear now but pained.

"I was…remembering. Remembering!"

"Does that mean….? Is _that man_ coming back?" Willow questioned fearfully.

Giles saw it was time to take charge and stepped closer to the recovering Xander.

"Xander," he said, and the boy—_man_—focused on him, "is this the first time you've seen parts of…Grimmjow's life?"

"No," Xander admitted, and Willow helped him to the couch, "it happened once before, right when I woke up, after the spell was broken."

"What did you see?" Giles asked patiently.

Xander sighed and rested his elbows on his knees.

"I don't know if you'd understand even if I explained it to you. _I _don't even understand. It's an entirely different world, with different rules, and if Aizen-sama—"

Xander stopped abruptly, realizing what he'd just said.

"That's the second time you've said that name," Giles observed, "Who is he? I know that 'sama' is a Japanese honorific roughly translated as 'lord.' Was Aizen your—Grimmjow's—superior?"

"Sort of. I think so." Xander replied.

"Regardless," Giles began, pushing his glasses up and rubbing his eyes, "now is obviously not the time to be playing twenty questions."

"That's right," Willow said, some of normal cheerful disposition returning, "We need to be focusing on turning you back to normal!"

Xander looked at her sadly and the young hacker's face fell.

"We can't, Wills. I can't go back."

"What do you mean?" She asked desperately, looking everyone in the face. It seemed that all of the others had come to the same conclusion that Xander had.

"Even if there was a way…," Giles trailed off, "It would destroy Xander. I think that he's as much this Grimmjow fellow as he is Xander now. It would be like ripping him in half."

"So what do we do?" Asked Buffy softly.

"Well, there are several charm spells that could work to disguise Xander's new appearance so he can go back to school, but I'm afraid it will take at least a month to craft one intricate enough to portray his former appearance. Right now, we should focus on making one that can disguise his jawbone and hole. That way he can at least go out in public while we work on the other."

Xander nodded, but it was a nod of grim acceptance.

"Alright," Buffy said, sighing, "What do we need to do?"

SEXTA

The five of them spent the rest of the weekend collecting the ingredients and crafting the delicate charm that would disguise Xander's uniquely inhuman features and allow him to blend in with the rest of the populace. Buffy, Willow, and Oz took turns playing "lookout"—that is, discreetly watching the front entrance of the library and giving a loud greeting to anyone who entered to warn Xander and give him enough time to run and hide.

Finally, at 11:30 pm on Sunday night, they were done. The fruits of their labor—a copper engraved ring with a little faux emerald—sat on the able in front of them, in a space that had been cleared of paper and ingredients to give it room.

The five of them stood in a circle around the table, staring at the ring, each harboring a fear that their almost non-stop efforts had been in vain. It was Giles who finally broke the silence.

"Well, if Xander doesn't try it on, all of our efforts will assuredly have been in vain."

Xander laughed nervously and reached with long fingers for the ring.

"Just a minute." Giles said.

Everyone focused on him, Xander with his hand still hovering over the innocuous looking piece of jewelry.

"Now you have to understand, Xander. This ring won't change anything about you. It will only _disguise_ you. We've set it to camouflage your bone, hole, and the markings beneath your eyes. However, if someone were to touch your right cheek, they would feel the bone, even if they couldn't see it. The same goes for the hole."

Xander nodded and picked up the ring.

"Not yet." Giles smiled at the young man's sudden impatience.

"The ring has a time limit. It'll work for eight hours before it needs to recharge for the same amount of time. That means you have to keep track."

"How do I recharge it?" Xander asked.

"Just take it off." Giles replied.

"Can I put it on now?"

"One more thing. The ring also draws some energy from you to work. Because this is a very simply disguise, it's not that much. But it might take a bit to get used to. Also, any significant surge of energy—say if you were to get a shock from an electric fence—will briefly disrupt the ring's disguise field. I have no idea what sort of powers Grimmjow had—or if any were passed on to you—but be careful or you'll find yourself without a disguise. And yes, you can put it on now."

Xander smiled (it was more of a smirk now) and slipped the thick ring onto the middle finger of his right hand. A spark of energy ran up him from head to toe and the jawbone and eye markings abruptly vanished, leaving in their place a strange but diminutive itch.

_That must be the energy draw Giles was talking about_, Xander thought. Out loud he asked:

"Did it work?"

Willow nodded happily and bounced over to give him a hug. When she had drawn away, Giles said, "Let's see if it covered the hole."

Xander cautiously lifted the shirt (the same from yesterday) and sure enough, his hole appeared to be gone as well.

"Good job, gang!" Buffy grinned, her hands on her hips.

"Alright," Giles said, "before you all go home, we have to discuss what Xander will be doing while we work on the next disguise."

"Well, I can't go home," Xander said, falling back into the couch, his long legs splayed across the arm rest. He was starting to get used to his new body.

"No, you can't. But your parents are going to notice that you haven't been home for a few days." Giles reminded him.

"I know!" Willow suddenly piped up, planting a fisted hand into her palm.

"We can say Xander won some sort of trip to Florida for a month!"

Everyone looked at her blankly.

"No, no! It will work, just listen. We can send his parents a post card from 'Florida' along with an 'official' reward letter. Xander can say it was sort of last minute, and they were too occupied for him to explain before he had to leave. I think I can make it look legit enough to pass inspection."

Xander was mulling it over.

"That could work. We'll have to sneak in and take my clothes and toiletries so it looks like I'm really gone."

"What about school?" Giles asked, frowning.

"Same thing! You'll have to help confirm it, though, Giles."

Giles nodded thoughtfully.

"Great idea, Willow!" Buffy said enthusiastically.

"And Xander can live with me in the meantime." Giles added.

"G-man, I can't—"

"Nonsense. Unless you mind sleeping on the couch, that is. It'll be nice to have some company."

Xander nodded meekly, the expression almost comical on Grimmjow's decidedly fierce face.

"We'll have to get you some new clothes too. You can't continue borrowing them from Angel."

"Okay, that's where I draw the line!" Xander exclaimed, rising to his impressive height.

"Oh, I didn't mean I'd be giving them to you!" Giles grinned, almost mischievously.

Xander looked puzzled.

"Well, what _do_ you mean, Giles?" Buffy asked, exasperated.

"Say hello to Sunnydale High's new assistant librarian!"

"Hell no!" Xander burst out.

"Snyder'll never hire him!" Buffy protested.

"Xander!" Willow said, clasping her hands in excitement.

Oz just looked mildly bewildered.

"Snyder would never hire Xander Harris," Giles began, a Ripper-esque smirk forming on his face, "but I bet I can get him to hire Grimm Jacques!"

SEXTA

The next morning, 7:00 am, found everyone minus Giles waiting impatiently in the library. Xander, complete with his new charm ring, was still dressed in Angel's clothes ("I see you've finally developed a fashion sense," the souled vampire had commented sarcastically), but they had been washed the night before.

Willow was at a computer, directing her nervous energy into finalizing the details for Xander's 'trip.' They would drop the fake post card off today. The letter to the school had already been sent the night before.

Buffy was pacing the room and looked like she wanted to stake something. Badly. Xander and Oz were on opposite ends of a couch, the former fidgeting with his shirt and bouncing one leg, the later calmly flipping through the latest music magazine.

No one had gotten more than four hours of sleep the night before (they'd had to stay later at the library to concoct Xander's trip letters and 'Grimm Jacques'' completely false resume. Everyone, save for Xander, who now had more stamina than he knew what to do with, had dark bags under their eyes.

At 7:17 and thirty seven seconds, Giles burst into the room, triumphantly waving a stack of papers above his head.

"You're hired!" He proclaimed, handing Xander the stack.

"What? Already?" Xander asked, accepting the papers in his bewilderment.

"You start today." Giles informed him, a self-satisfied smile spreading across his lips.

"Whoa, Giles, how'd you do it?" Buffy queried, speeding over to her Watcher.

"I've got a few tricks up my sleeves," the Englishman said secretively.

"Giles, you didn't!" Buffy looked scandalized.

"Just a little bit," the older man admitted.

"I thought you'd given up magic after your Ripper days?" Willow asked from the computer.

"Mostly," Giles admitted, "but this little bit was harmless. Even simpler than the charm."

"Well, whatever you did," Xander said, his eyes raking over the papers in his hands, "thanks a lot. Although I don't know the first thing about librarian-ing."

"You'll learn quick. Now you three better get off to class. I have to open up the library to students now. Xander—or should I say 'Grimm,"—you can help unlock everything and boot the computers up."

"Right-o, boss man!" Xander saluted, causing Willow to chuckle.

"We'll come by and eat lunch with you!" Willow promised as the three students picked up their bags and started for the doors.

"And tonight—shopping spree!" Buffy exclaimed gleefully, rubbing her hands together.

"Get ye back, fiends!" Xander shouted at them, making the sign of the cross with his fingers.

He could still hear their laughter after they had left the room.

SEXTA

Cordelia Chase stepped through the doors of the library and scowled. This was the second time she'd been here in her entire high school career, and it was just as repulsive as it had been the first time. Although she was physically glaring at the racks of book, she was mentally glaring at her history teacher, who had insisted his class use actual book sources (as opposed to internet sources).

This wasn't the first time he'd insisted. The first time, he had promised he would check their sources. And he had. Now Cordelia's grade was in jeopardy. And if it wasn't the grade she was worried about, it was the loss of freedom that would come with it if she failed her next paper and her parents found out.

So here she was, in the library, and she really had no idea where to begin.

"Just set them by the front desk," she heard Mr. Giles yell from another room, "We can sort them later!"

"Right," responded an unfamiliar, low voice.

The voice heralded the entrance of a tall man whose head was blocked by a cardboard box overflowing with dusty books. She watched him walk over to the front desk and plop his cargo at the foot of the librarian's chair. As he straightened up, she got a good look at him. And was he good to look at!

It was a guy she had never seen before (she would have totally remembered!), in his early-twenties, tall and rakishly handsome. He was wearing a simple t-shirt, jeans, and combat boots. The bright blue hair was a little weird, she had to admit, but it really worked for him.

He noticed her for the first time, and a stunned look crossed his face. His eyes were the same fierce blue as his hair.

Cordelia put on her most sultry smile and sauntered over to him, watching his face from beneath long, dark lashes.

"Don't believe I've seen you before. You new?"

The man had regained his composure and grinned at her, showing all of his perfect white teeth.

"I'm the new assistant librarian. Grimm Jacques."

He held out a hand and she noticed (she _always _noticed men's jewelry) the wide copper band on his middle finger. The emerald was fake, she was sure, but it was a nice-looking ring. He had good taste.

She clasped his hand and gave it a good shake. A little shiver rang up her spine when they touched, which surprised her, because she was nothing if not in her element around men.

"Cordelia Chase."

"That's a lovely name," he said, and another full grin split his face.

Cordelia instantly liked him, including his open grins, even if they were a little maniacal.

"Thank you," she replied, and he let go of her hand.

"I'm still learning my way around, but is there anything I can help you with?" He asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"I need to find books about Henry VIII," she said, her distaste evident.

"That I can find!"

SEXTA

An interesting tidbit of information spread like wildfire that day at Sunnydale High. There was a hot new assistant librarian.

And he was off limits, by order of Queen C.

* * *

Thank you for reading! Please review if you can, and let me know what you think about the formatting!

Miss Lullaby


	2. In Which Xander Becomes a Librarian

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Here we are, a month and a half later, with chapter number two. We sincerely thank all who have reviewed and read _Sexta _both for their time and their input. We are pleased, after a month and a half, to bring the next installment. Two-thirds of this chapter has been done for some time, but we wanted to offer a full update. The last third was finished just now, so please expect it to be a little rougher than you are used to. In all possibility, there are mistakes and/or minor plot holes within. As always, please feel free to correct us.

1) On another note, we welcome any plot and/or stories you, our readers, may have. Please include them in reviews, or you may PM us if you wish them to stay secret. Feedback is VERY much appreciated.

2) Also, some of our readers have questioned us about Xander's romantic pursuits. As of yet, we have not decided who Xander's love interest will be, and we would like your input. Any FEMALES are fair game, so let us know who you would like to see him with and why. Please keep in mind, however, that the final decision is up to us and who we feel we can write.

3) Lastly, we would really appreciate it if you would notify us whenever someone seems out of character. Though some OOCness is to be expected in a crossover/AU, we would like to stay as true to the characters as possible.

Once again, thank you for reading, and please enjoy chapter two!

**DISCLAIMER: **Miss Lullaby does not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Bleach. They are property of Joss Whedon and Tite Kubo, respectively.

* * *

The rest of the Scoobies joined Xander and Giles in the library at noon, then everyone retired to a back room to eat lunch. Xander took off the ring (for comfort as much as recharging purposes) at the girls' insistence so that there would be some time left on it for the unavoidable afterschool shopping trip.

He had spent the morning basically being Giles' packhorse, moving whatever heavy boxes the aging librarian had left lying around. And that was where things became sort of alarming.

The boxes—boxes he knew had to weigh at least fifty pounds each—had felt feather-light in his arms. He hadn't broken a sweat all morning, nor had he yet to experience any muscle soreness or tightness. Although he had an admittedly greater physique now, he was beginning to think there was more to this body-changing madness than he had originally thought.

Xander shook himself out of his thoughts and returned to the conversation at the old card table they'd set up, bringing his can of Mountain Dew to his lips. The liquid was—

_--bitter and scalding, a vile brew that Aizen forced everyone to drink at the start of their meetings. Grimmjow's disgust was always written very clearly across his face. Stark was the only one who seemed to like the taste, but most of the others, especially Ulquiorra and Halibel, gave no outward signs of their preference. And Grimmjow was hungry again, not for food, but for something_—

--sweet and ice-cold.

Xander noticed that everyone had become suddenly quiet. Four pairs of eyes bored into his as he lowered his can to the table.

"You were 'remembering' again," Giles stated matter-of-factly.

"Yeah," Xander replied softly.

"What did you remember?" Buffy asked. No one objected to the question.

Xander sighed, gazed at the ring sitting by his elbow, picked it up, fingered it absently in one hand.

"Aizen liked this awful tea," he began, "and he always forced everyone to drink a cup before he began meetings. No one else seemed to mind the stuff, but—"

"No one else?" Buffy interrupted.

"The other Espada, I mean," Xander clarified. "Although with Halibel and Ulquiorra, you never could tell."

Xander pretended not to notice the wariness in their eyes at the way he so casually talked about people he had never met, people that may not have ever existed, but a part of him was saying—

_--nonsense! He could remember meeting them, his initial impressions of them: Yammy, a giant buffoon not worth his time; Ulquiorra, infuriatingly silent and dead; Stark, Gin, Halibel, Tousen, Syazel, Nnoitra, everyone—_

--stop it!" He shouted, standing up and sending his stool flying, hands gripping his head, tangled in his hair.

_Where was his sword? Where had he left Pan—_

"Shut up!" He roared.

Buffy was at his side in an instant, reaching for him, trying to calm him, but he swatted at her instinctually, sent her arm flying, forcing her to take a step back and regain her balance.

Shock ran across her face at the ease with which he had knocked her away. Xander's teeth ground together like the fangs of a wild beast, his eyes were wide and feral, rimmed in _bloodlust_.

He had never had such a desire to fight something, to hurt, to maim, to strike out with his sword and slice open flesh, watch life blood gush down, and again, a stab, the parting of skin and the squelch of innards as they gave way before his blade—

_--fight me, Kurosaki! Show me what you can do! Is that all you've got? Come! Fight me! _

"Xander!" An unfamiliar voice was calling. Who was Xander?

"_Xander!_" Desperate this time. What do you want woman? Can't you see I'm not Xander?

"GRIMMJOW!"

Silence.

The echo of Giles' bellow soaked into the stacks of thick books, and everyone was staring at Xander.

"What did you call me?" He asked, his voice whisper soft, his hands dropping to his sides.

"Grimmjow," Giles repeated, locking eyes with Xander.

"I'm not, I—"

But he couldn't bring himself to finish it. Because it wasn't true.

"Yes you are, Xander," Giles said softly.

Why was that name so painfully foreign to him?

"I think I'm going to be sick," he said, and rushed to the bathroom.

SEXTA

"What's wrong with him, Giles?" Willow shrieked, throwing herself at the librarian as tears streamed down her cheeks.

Buffy's hand returned to her side, away from the stake she had been fingering.

"I'm not really sure," the librarian answered truthfully.

"But you have an idea," Buffy finished.

"Yes," Giles replied reluctantly, "let's sit down."

"Shouldn't someone check on Xander?" Willow asked, sniffling.

"I think he needs to be alone," Oz replied, entering the conversation for the first time.

Everyone sat back down at the time, conspicuously avoiding glancing at Xander's empty seat.

"So what's your theory?" Buffy asked.

"Alright, this is what I think," Giles sighed, setting his hands on the table.

"Grimmjow left more than a body behind. He also left his memories, his personality, whatever powers he may have had. They just aren't surfacing all at once."

"So you're saying that Xander will eventually become this Grimmjow person?" Willow asked fearfully.

"Not exactly," Giles explained. "He still has all his Xander memories and personality traits. Think of it like a merger between two companies. Neither company loses any experience; they create an entirely new company out of both their experiences."

"So… he won't become this Grimmjow, but he still won't quite be Xander anymore, right?" Buffy asked.

"I think so." Giles nodded.

"There's something you're not saying." Willow said from the corner where she had been abnormally quiet.

Giles looked pained.

"Whatever it is, we can handle it," Buffy said, "We _have_ to handle it."

Giles let out a long breath.

"Okay. Remember the company merger analogy?"

Three heads nodded.

"Well, it's usually not an equal merge. One company sort of assimilates the other. I'm not sure, but I think that one of the personalities—either Grimmjow's or Xander's—will also become the dominant one."

Willow looked sick.

"How do we know which personality will be dominant?" Oz asked.

"I'm not sure," Giles answered truthfully, "but my guess is the stronger of the two."

"That's Xander, right?" Willow asked hopefully.

"I hope so," Giles said. "In the meantime, I want you Willow, and Buffy, to tell me everything you remember—everything!—about this Grimmjow character."

SEXTA

Xander listened and watched from the shadows of the doorway. He could feel the bile rising in his throat, but he swallowed hard. He was done playing buddy-buddy with the library's porcelain throne.

Buffy and Willow were recounting, in exhaustive detail, everything they remembered about him—no, Grimmjow—from Halloween night. It was still very hazy for Xander. He could remember bits and pieces, snippets of sensory information, but most of it was gone. He'd been in severe pain on someone's front lawn, and the next thing he knew, he was on the library couch.

_Only his battle with Ichigo had been somewhere in-between that, hadn't it_?

Xander gripped his head and cursed, something he rarely did.

_I've never even _heard _that name before_.

But there was an image in his head of —

_--Kurosaki, wearing those disgustingly uniform shinigami robes. At least his bankai was somewhat different--_

--a teenager with bright orange hair and a cocky grin on his narrow features.

Xander's hand brushed against the bone on his cheek and he would have sworn again if he wasn't afraid it would alert the others to his presence.

Turns out they had heard him anyways. Buffy in particular looked very displeased.

"How much did you hear?" Giles asked calmly.

"Enough," Xander replied.

He decided, since he'd already confessed, that he might as well join them and took a seat.

"And?" Giles prompted, raising one bushy eyebrow.

"I think you're right," Xander sighed, running his hands through his hair, "But that's not what scares me."

"Then what does?" Willow asked meekly.

"I don't know if I care," he said, looking her in the eyes.

Willow's face scrunched up and she bolted out of her seat, fists banging against the tabletop.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She shouted. "You're giving up? You're just going to let that—that _freak_ win?"

Xander flinched, and for a moment, Buffy swore she saw hurt in his eyes. Then the muscles in his face tightened and he too stood up.

"Who're you calling a freak?" One hand smacked palm open onto the table; the other closed firmly around the hilt of his sword.

Willow appeared befuddled, but she'd lost none of her anger.

"Xander's normal! Grimmjow's the freak!" She retorted.

"I _am_ Grimmjow!" Xander roared, and lunged onto the table.

He had crossed the space between them in a split second, his free hand in an open claw, inches from Willow's throat.

"Xander!" Buffy yelled in alarm, and started to rise.

Giles stopped her with a hand at her elbow.

_He needs to say this_, Giles' eyes seemed to say_, Let him go for a moment_.

Buffy relaxed but remained standing.

Xander leaned forward so that his face was right in front of Willow's, his lips parted in a grimace, his hot breath washing over her face.

"I _am _Grimmjow, Wills," he said, his voice low but unwavering, "I might not remember everything, but I suspect I _will_. And I'll be as much Grimmjow as I am Xander. Can you live with that?"

For a moment they were frozen in that position, muscles tense with emotion.

Then tears sprang to Willow's eyes, spilled over her lids, and she reached with both arms, shaking, and wrapped them around Xander's neck.

"I just don't want to lose you," she whispered in his ear, drawing him closer.

Xander relaxed in her hug and put his arms around her.

"I think you'll have a harder time getting rid of me now," he said, and Willow giggled.

SEXTA

After school, Giles borrowed the three teens—two now, since Xander was bodily in his twenties, and Oz had left for band practice—his car, and pressed several folded bills in Xander's palm.

"Giles…" Xander trailed off, his eyebrows narrowing.

"Don't," Giles held up a hand, "The Watchers' Council sends me a sizable monthly stipend to be used for any 'Slayer' expenses. And I think the Halloween incident and its aftermath counts as a 'Slayer' expense."

Xander looked at the librarian hard, but, deciding he was truly serious, tucked the bills in the back pocket of his—ugh, Angel's—pants.

"Remember how much time you've got stored on the ring," the older man warned as everyone got in, Xander in the driver's seat.

It turns out that when Giles had said 'eight hours,' he'd meant that the maximum charge was eight hours. The ring would hold as much charge as the time it was off the bearer's finger, up to eight hours. Xander had taken it off at lunch and worked in the back rooms that afternoon so there'd be time on it for shopping.

"Of course, G-man," Xander replied, and the four of them drove off.

Sunnydale's mall was not big in size or selection, but it would work well enough for their purposes.

SEXTA

Claire was a twenty-something who attended Sunnydale's community college part-time and spent the rest of her weekdays working at one of the mall's trendier clothing stores. She got off at six this day, and she couldn't wait. Weekdays were always slow, the mall's primary customers being high schoolers, and Mondays in particular were agonizing.

That all changed when a blue-haired Adonis—a high school girl on each arm—was dragged into the store. His hair was a little punk-ish, but then, his body and face were really too delicious to pass up.

She briefly wondered why a guy like him was with two high schoolers, but she caught the other sales assistant, Marie, making a beeline towards the three and she knew she'd lose her chance if she didn't book it.

Thankfully, Marie was at the complete other end of the store, so Claire got to the guy first.

Suppressing a self-satisfied smirk, she instead put on her most seductive smile and smoothed back a lock of her hair.

"Welcome to Clarice's. I'm Claire. How can I help you today?"

"I need some clothes," he blurted out, obviously uncomfortable with being dragged around.

Claire's eyes swept up and down his form—and boy did she like what she saw.

"Anything in particular?"

"Ah…just some jackets and jeans."

One of the girls—the red-head—gave him a condescending look.

"And t-shirts," she said.

"Yeah," he looked disgusted, "t-shirts too."

"Well, I think I can help with that," Claire said, and lightly grasped one bicep, her manicured nails flashing in the lights.

The girl on that side looked offended (and jealous, Claire hoped), but she let go and the man allowed himself to be led, followed closely by his entourage.

"I didn't catch your name," she said, smiling up at him through her lashes.

"Oh, ah, Grimm Jacques."

"That's very unique. I like it. Ah, here we are."

They had stopped in front of a rack with stylized printed tees.

"Alright, where to begin…"

SEXTA

An hour and twenty-three minutes later and Xander had a nice pile of fitted jeans and t-shirts in a neatly-folded pile for him outside the dressing room. He'd even picked up a few jackets, with the girls' help.

He was trying on his last item of clothing, one (perhaps the _only_ one) he'd picked for himself (not that he didn't like the others). It was a white, black-lined jacket that fell just above his waist and had an astonishing number of pockets for such a skinny number.

It reminded him of another jacket—

_--one that Aizen had handed to him as he knelt on the floor, nude and in pain, shocked but pleased to be in human form again. His new body sang with power; Aizen hadn't lied. He reached out and his hand closed around the article of clothing, the same white as the clothes of the other Espada he'd seen. _

"_Welcome, Grimmjow," Aizen said, his eyes ever sharp, "You will be my sixth Espada." _

Xander shook his head and tugged at the sleeves of the jacket. It was a perfect fit, as if it'd been made for him. He was a little appalled at his lack of resistance to the 'memory,' but they were starting to feel less and less foreign.

And he'd decided earlier, while watching the library toilet suck away his vomit, that it would be easier if he didn't fight so hard.

Pushing these morose thoughts away, he pushed aside the dressing room curtain and stepped out.

The looks on his audience's faces told him immediately that he'd forgotten something.

_T-shirt_, his mind supplied. He hated anything touching his hole—it was so dang sensitive!—but he quickly decided he'd have to be properly covered at all times, even if it was uncomfortable.

Three pairs of eyes were riveted to his admittedly chiseled chest; three noses sported a thin trickle of blood.

"How's the jacket look?" He deadpanned.

"Perfect," they said in uniform, their eyes still glued to his naked chest.

"Then I'll get it," he said, knowing full well none of them had really noticed the jacket.

They nodded.

Xander wanted to punch something.

SEXTA

After a couple more stops (mainly for things like boxers—the girls were forced to wait outside while Xander picked these out), the trio decided that, since Xander now owned a complete, fitting wardrobe, and since it was almost six and he had almost an hour left on the ring, they would stop in the food court for supper.

Xander, and thus indirectly Giles, treated Buffy and Willow to supper, and they all had burgers, fries, and malts. When they sat down at a table, Xander noted how the girls sat one on either side of him, probably closer than was necessary, instead across the table. This was a new development, and he supposed it was because of the looks he had been getting from the ladies they ran into lately.

He wasn't _completely_ oblivious.

They'd finished their burgers and fries and moved onto the malts, chatting amiably about their purchases, when the distinct clicking of heels on a hard floor approached their table. _Several_ pairs of heels, by the sound.

The hair on the back of Xander's neck stood up, and he knew even before he turned around and saw who it was that this wouldn't end well.

SEXTA

Cordelia, along with Harmony and several other Cordettes, had arrived at the mall around five to do a little shopping and pick through the day's news. The news, of course, consisted mainly of the new assistant librarian, Grimm Jacques.

Though Cordelia had been quick to stake her claim, many of the status-conscious female students at Sunnydale High had made harmless, fleeting trips to the library to see if they could catch a glimpse of Queen C's new crush. Some of the guys had even stopped, hoping to get a good look at their new competition.

It was safe to say that Mr. Jacques had made quite an impression on the student body, and Cordelia was going to have her hands full with girls trying to challenge her claim.

The girls had just been discussing Mr. Jacques' various…_assets_…when they rounded a corner of the mall and came into full view of the food court.

And who should be sitting there but the object of their appraisal and admiration…

With Buffy and Willow on either side.

Cordelia's fists clenched and her lips drew into a tight line. The Cordettes watched their leader's rising anger with equal parts apprehension and curiosity, so it was only natural that, when she pasted a bright smile on her face, fixed her hair, and started over towards the threesome at the table that the girls followed their leader at a safe distance.

SEXTA

Buffy was actually the first one to see Cordelia, but by the frosty expression on her face, Willow and Xander knew who was approaching without even turning.

"Cordelia," Buffy said through nearly clenched teeth, "Fancy meeting you here."

Cordelia ignored her in favor of a light tap to Xander's shoulder. Xander twisted around, setting his malt on the table, and tried to look surprised.

"Mr. Jacques! I didn't know you knew these two!"

The slightly disgusted nod of her head towards Buffy and Willow made it clear who Cordelia meant when she said "these two."

"I've know Giles for awhile," Xander began, monitoring the tension between the groups of girls, "so Buffy and Willow were the first students I met here. They were kind enough to show me around a bit."

Buffy and Willow were a bit surprised at how well Xander was handling the situation, but now wasn't the time to say anything.

"I see," Cordelia replied, her eyes shooting imaginary lasers at Buffy and Willow.

Her gaze quickly shifted back to Xander and became sensuous.

"Well I hope _we_ can get to know each other better. There are other sorts of girls around school, after all."

It was clear that this last part was meant as an insult to Buffy and Willow. The latter two, eyes narrowed and frowns in place, said nothing.

"You know where to find me," Xander replied, hoping the thought of spending time in a library would dissuade Cordelia.

"I sure do!" She winked at him and gave a little wave.

"We have to be going, but I look forward to seeing you again!"

Cordelia turned, spared one last icy glance at Buffy and Willow, and began walking away, the Cordettes close on her heels.

"Well, that was…" Buffy trailed off.

"Awkward?" Xander supplied, raising one eyebrow.

Buffy nodded.

"Ooo! She makes me so angry!" Willow added, her small hands in tight fists.

"Me too, Willow," Buffy sighed, "me too."

Conversation was somewhat dampened after that, so they quickly finished off their malts and loaded into the car for a quick trip back to the library. When they got their, Giles was in the main room, flipping through some old books. He looked up as they entered and smile warmly.

"How was your trip?"

"Great!" Willow said enthusiastically, referring to the shopping.

"Until the end," Buffy added, referring to Cordelia.

Giles directed his questioned gaze towards Xander, who simple shrugged and handed the older man the change.

"I'll pay you back as soon as I get my first paycheck," Xander said firmly.

"Don't worry, Xander," Giles smiled, "I'm in no hurry."

It was at that moment that Xander's ring sparked and his jawbone and eye-markings flickered into view.

"Guess we cut it a little close," he said sheepishly, pocketing the ring.

"Just be careful, Xander, or you might never be able to go back to school," Giles warned.

Xander sobered a little and nodded.

"It'll be dark soon, so I'm going to get ready for patrol," Buffy said, breaking some of the serious mood.

"I have to go too," Willow added, "I've got a huge paper due tomorrow."

"I guess I should probably make myself scarce since the ring is out of juice," Xander said.

"It's settled then. I have some research to do, so I won't be back until late. Buffy, can you make sure Willow and Xander get home safely before patrols?"

"Of course, Giles. Give me a couple minutes to get my gear and we'll go."

Xander and Willow nodded and checked to make sure they still had stakes of their own.

One could never be too careful on the Hellmouth.

SEXTA

The sun had just disappeared below the horizon as Buffy and Xander stepped off Willow's porch, the sound of the door closing behind her still ringing in their ears.

"Giles' apartment, right?" Buffy asked as they stepped into the street, more for conversation than as an actual question.

"Yup," Xander affirmed.

They walked in silence for several blocks, each left alone in their thoughts. Both kept an eye and ear out for any supernatural activity of the evil variety. There was nothing of that kind to speak of until a few blocks before Giles' apartment complex, in the seedier neighborhood that came right before his.

They had just stepped off a curb on a particularly dark street corner—the light having been smashed out—when there was a light gust of wind and the sound of swift feet.

A trio of vampires appeared suddenly in front of them, game faces already on and lengthened canines glinting cruelly even in the darkness.

Xander and Buffy took a step back, felt once again the disruption in the air that meant new arrivals, and realized they were surrounded. Both gripped their stakes lightly, but paused for a moment when the leader, a punk with a neon orange Mohawk and countless piercings, spoke up.

"Ya know, girly," He said, referring to Buffy, "I here the Slayer's in town. Blonde, short, a sweet little thing."

His companions leered.

"We thought we'd invite her to our party, show her a good time."

He smiled, showing off teeth that had been filed to points. His eyes said he knew he was looking at this Slayer.

"Unfortunately," the vampire continued, his eyes rolling over to rest on Xander, "she seems to have a boyfriend."

Buffy had had about enough.

"Stay close to me, Xander," she hissed.

Xander was a bit insulted, but he nodded at turned around, putting his back up against hers. They both drew their stakes. He was dismayed to find that there were a least six vampires now in front of him, in addition to the three Buffy was facing.

Nine vampires total.

The leader chuckled, Buffy shouted "Now!" and then everything got complicated.

All the vampires advanced at once, claws and fangs at the ready. Xander's aim was true and his stake plunged deep into the heart of the closest demon.

Unfortunately, the startled vampire ripped the stake from Xander's clutches as it staggered backward, and said weapon ended up several feet away, atop the pile of dust where the vampire had fallen.

Xander lunged for it but was caught in a nasty clothesline by the vampires in front of him. He staggered, his vision fuzzy, and avoided having his face clawed off by pure luck. He went down on one knee, heard Buffy's scream of rage, wished he had time to turn and see how she was faring.

Probably better than him.

This time he darted between a vamp's legs and was inches away from his stake when a hand closed on the back of his shirt and tossed him several yards away. He landed hard on the asphalt, dazed.

His vision swam again, he coughed, feeling something warm and wet on his lips, and four shadowing figures advanced towards him. Buffy frantically called his name, and then there was the sickening sound of rending flesh.

Buffy shrieked in pain.

Xander's eyes darted towards her in time to see her reeling back, droplets of blood flying in the air.

Then something in Xander snapped.

A manic grin split his blood-flecked lips and his blue eyes lit up like electric lights, blazing with frenzied, insane bloodlust.

This time, Xander didn't fight it.

He flew at his opponents with frightening speed, one last lucid wish for his sword racing through his thoughts, and then he was consumed by violence.

He came down like a hammer, landing agilely on the first vampire, ripping his head from his shoulders. Blood splattered all over Xander's face and then the vamp turned to dust. But Xander was long gone.

One hand plunged deep into the chest of another foe, clenched around its dead heart, and ripped out the organ with a sickening squelch.

The two remaining vampires leapt at Xander, one gouging deep slices in his thigh. Xander ignored the wound and threw the vampire into a trash bin twenty feet away. One blood covered hand scooped up the stake from where it lay at his feet and drove down through another vampire's head at an angle, until it reached the heart.

The vampire who'd been knocked against the bin was getting up, but Xander, blood-drenched stake still in hand, was on him in seconds. He pinned one of the vamp's legs to the concrete with the stake and was reaching with malicious intent for the pale neck when something stopped him.

"X-xander?"

Buffy.

_Whimpering._

Xander's eyes widened and his hands stopped.

The vampire took the opportunity and drove a clawed hand through Xander's stomach.

Blood spilled over Xander's bottom lip in a curtain of crimson.

And he _smiled._

There was a blur, quicker than any of them could follow, and Xander's hands were buried in the monster's dead flesh, one in his hand and one in his heart. The vampire disintegrated, leaving Xander's hands, dripping with blood and brain matter, covered in a fine layer of dust.

Then he came back to himself, and retched.

* * *

Once again, thank you for reading! Please review.


	3. In Which Xander Visits Soul Society

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Not much to say this time around. This chapter is a little shorter, but we felt it was a good spot to end. We have decided that the pairing for this story will be Xander/Orihime. We apologize if this is not to anyone's liking, but we feel it has the most potential. Thank you all for reading and for reviewing. Please enjoy this chapter.

**DISCLAIMER: **Miss Lullaby does not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Bleach. They are property of Joss Whedon and Tite Kubo, respectively.

**

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**~During the Battle, Twelfth Division Headquarters, Soul Society~**

Mayuri Kurotsuchi was having a rare moment of spare time to himself. Between experimenting, monitoring, technological fiddling, and a whole host of other science-y jobs, the Twelfth Division captain barely had any time at all for his smaller pet projects.

So it was with glee that he took a seat at his desk, freshly-brewed tea (in a beaker, of course) in one hand and a small trinket in the other. An unholy grin spread across his lips as he lifted a screwdriver and was about to begin tinkering when he felt Nemu's reiatsu approach, followed by three light taps on his door.

With a hearty sigh, he placed his screwdriver back down on his desk.

"What is it, Nemu?" He asked, irritated.

"Permission to enter, sir," came the monotone reply.

"Granted."

The door swung open and Mayuri's "daughter" and vice-captain meekly entered.

"This better be good, Nemu," Mayuri warned, lifting the beaker of tea to his lips.

"Our equipment is picking up strange readings from the Hellmouth in Sunnydale," Nemu said, cutting right to the chase.

Mayuri pulled the beaker from his lips and frowned.

"We are _always_ picking up strange readings from the Hellmouth," he said, frowning and lifting the beaker again.

"The machines have detected a reiatsu signature virtually identical to the arrancar designated as the 'Sexta Espada,' Grimmjow Jeagerjacques."

At this point, Mayuri had just gotten his first swallow of tea, only to discover that it had a sudden sour taste to it. At any other time, news of a surviving arrancar would have delighted him. Now, however, he was under _very _close inspection by the Captain Commander, and failing to report something of this significance could very well lose him his captaincy.

He spit the tea back into the beaker.

"I suppose we'll have to report this," he sighed.

"Yes sir."

**~After the Battle, Sunnydale Hellmouth~**

Xander's eyes surveyed the damage he had wreaked, and for a moment he thought he would vomit once more. He could barely feel the bloody hole the vampire had made in his chest, nor the wounds in his thigh. Those seemed miniscule at the moment, and, subconsciously, he knew they were not life-threatening to him.

The vampires had left no bodies behind, but the surrounding area was splattered with plenty of blood and gore.

And Xander was covered in the worst of it.

He could feel the warm stains, still wet and fresh, on his face, his hands, soaking through the fabric of his jeans and shirt. He didn't want to think about what the little bits of tan and grey sticking to the blood here and there were.

He heard light footsteps, deep breathing, and remembered that Buffy was with him. He nearly choked under a wave of shame and disgust.

"Xander?"

Her voice came from behind him, soft and full of concern, and, buried beneath that, a revulsion she couldn't mask.

"Don't come any closer," he barked as he got to his feet.

"Xander, don't do anything stupid." Buffy said, this time more strongly and with a hint of steel.

Xander whipped around and Buffy got a good look at the gore covering him. His gritted teeth were stark white against the bright red blood splattered on his face and leaking from his mouth. But it wasn't the gaping wound in his stomach or his fierce posture and expression that gave her pause.

It was his eyes.

They were clear and mostly lucid—Xander was obviously aware again—but they were shining too brightly and still rimmed in manic bloodlust.

"Don't follow me, Buffy," he said, and it was the most commanding she had ever heard him.

She drew herself up and prepared for an epic battle of words, but Xander wasn't planning on talking anything over.

He spun around and raced off with uncanny speed. He, impossibly, covered almost a full block before Buffy came out of her surprise and took off after him. But despite his dire wounds and her infamous Slayer speed, he proved faster.

Buffy was reminded of the unholy speed with which Grimmjow had moved Halloween night. It appeared some of that talent was coming back to Xander. She continued running, even though she knew it was a losing battle, hoping that when he stopped, she would be able to find him.

_Don't do anything stupid, Xander_, she thought desperately.

SEXTA

Xander ran for ten minutes before he was sure he'd lost Buffy. A couple days ago, he might have taken time to marvel at his newfound speed. Now, though, he was only concerned with one thing.

He ducked into an alley and came to a stop, having hardly broken a sweat. His fingers, sticky and stiff with drying blood, clawed blindly at his shirt, ripping it violently over his head despite the protests from the wound in his chest.

Using the mostly clean back of the shirt, he scrubbed frantically at the blood on his arms and face, but only succeeded in moving it around. He growled and pitched the shirt as far as he could down the alley.

His head was full of smoky, fleeting images from past battles, flitting about so fast he could barely make sense of them. The part of him that was still rational knew that if he didn't calm himself down, he would go looking for something else to fight.

With effort, he turned his gaze downward towards the wound in his stomach. It had almost closed and had stopped leaking fluids. For some reason, he was irritated that it hadn't healed yet.

There was a noise over his shoulder then, of bells, and he pivoted to face whatever it was.

Behind him were old, Japanese-style paper doors, standing in thin air. There was a pang of familiarity, and then they slid open. A delicate blue and black butterfly wafted gracefully out, followed quickly by twenty or so men and women in black robes. All of them carried swords.

The last two to step out were obviously the ones in the charge. The first, carrying a long, segmented sword, had bright red hair in a tight ponytail and tattoos on his face and chest. The second, the man in charge, wore a regal scarf and had long black hair held out of his face by strange white clips.

The black-haired man—the only one present whose hand wasn't on his sword hilt—stepped forward and glared down at Xander with a look of disdain.

"Grimmjow Jeagerjacques. We thought Kurosaki Ichigo had killed you, but you apparently managed to escape. Why did you not join the remaining Espada in the final battle?"

Xander was too stunned by the appearance of the strangers—_shinigami_—and flood of familiarity that washed over him at their arrival to answer.

"Very well. We will hear your story later."

The man made a slight motion with his hand and from behind Xander came a sharp lance of electricity. He barely had time to be surprised, much less berate himself for being ambushed for the_ second_ time that night, before the device did its work and he fell unconscious.

"Put the reiatsu restraints on him and bind his arms and legs," Kuchiki Byakuya directed his subordinates, "It's time we returned to Soul Society."

The shinigami obeyed and the group, now with one additional person, left Sunnydale through the otherworldly gates they had come by.

**~Captain Commander's Chambers, Soul Society~ **

"You may enter," the Captain Commander intoned from his desk.

The screen door slid back, Byakuya entered, and, after a proper bow, approached his superior.

Yamamoto set his ink brush down on its holder and focused his attention on the stoic noble and Captain of the Sixth Division who had come to report.

"Kuchiki-taicho," he began with a nod, "What news of Jeagerjacques?"

"He has been captured and brought to the Twelfth Division, where he is under supervision by members of the Twelfth, Sixth, and Eighth."

"And were there any complications in restraining him?"

Here Byakuya's indifferent expression faltered and he looked momentarily puzzled.

"There were some anomalies," he conceded. "Jeagerjacques seemed caught off-guard and genuinely surprised when our team made contact. He was clothed in regular human attire instead of Espada robes, and looked as if he had just been through a battle."

Yamamoto held up a hand for Byakuya to stop.

"How so?" He asked.

Byakuya clarified.

"He had a large wound in his chest and was partially covered in blood."

The Captain Commander nodded in satisfaction and motion for Byakuya to continue.

"In addition, Jeagerjacques did not seem to notice the team behind him until they had struck him with Kurotsuchi's invention. He fell unconscious with only one strike, even though Kurotsuchi himself warned my team it would take several hits to bring down an Espada."

"This is troubling," Yamamoto commented, stroking his beard. "Do you believe he is actually Jeagerjacques?"

"I am reasonably sure."

Yamamoto appeared to mull this information over before speaking again.

"Miss Inoue is here visiting friends, is she not?" He asked.

"She is," Byakuya confirmed.

"Then please have her brought to Twelfth Division to confirm the prisoner's identity."

Yamamoto picked up his brush, signaling the matter had been concluded, but Byakuya interrupted.

"With all due respect, Captain Commander, are you sure it is wise to have Inoue Orihime do the confirming? You know there was some controversy over their perceived feelings for each other."

Yamamoto once again set down his brush and looked Byakuya in the eye.

"That is why it is imperative it is Miss Inoue we send."

**~Somewhere in Twelfth Division Headquarters, Soul Society~ **

For the second time in a week, Xander woke in pain.

His wrists, ankles, chest, and waist had been belted tightly down to a metal table that was freezing on his bare back. He appeared to be in some sort of lab—the mad scientist kind he had always read about in horror novels. Right now, he was feeling a bit like Frankenstein.

"Feeling a bit under the weather, are we?" An oily voice said over his shoulder.

Xander struggled half-hearted in his bonds—he already knew he wouldn't be breaking out anytime soon—and tried to twist to see the speaker.

He didn't have to.

The man rounded the table and stood at the foot of the bed.

Xander almost wished he hadn't. If the room he was in was the mad scientist's lab, then here was the mad scientist. The man was tall and gaunt, clad in the same robes as the other shinigami had been, with the addition of a white over-robe. His face was caked with garish white make-up, his mouth frozen in a horrific smile, and on his head sat a brightly-colored, whimsical hat.

"Well, Mr. Jeagerjacques," the man exclaimed, raising his arms, "I never got the chance to meet you during the war, so naturally I am now very pleased to make your acquaintance!"

The word "war" brought a quick flood of memories to Xander's mind—Aizen's meetings, floating over a sleeping town, battles with shinigami—

"…name is Kurotsuchi Mayuri, Captain of the Twelfth Division," the mad scientist was saying, interrupting Xander's thoughts.

It was then that something Kurotsuchi had said a moment ago clicked in Xander's head.

_He thinks I'm Grimmjow!_ He thought incredulously.

And then, _Well, I sort of am, but he doesn't realize—_

"…science and research division."

Kurotsuchi, interrupting again. His voice was too annoying to ignore.

"Listen, Kurotsuchi," Xander began, "I know I may look it but I'm not—"

The mad scientist lifted up a finger and stopped him.

"Before you go on a tirade," he said, the first hint of seriousness entering his eyes, "you should know that we've got a very strong reiatsu dampener on you right now. And it will be several hours until you're back at full capacity anyways, after the little shock Sixth Division gave you."

Xander hadn't understood half of what the man was saying, but he did notice that there was a collar around his neck, and an odd feeling of weakness and loss.

Kurotsuchi laughed at the feral gleam in Xander's eyes, but was stopped mid-cackle by the crackle of an overhead speaker.

"Kurotsuchi-taicho," came a soft, feminine voice, "the girl that command sent has arrived."

Kurotsuchi looked disgruntled, but he replied.

"Send her down, Nemu."

"Yes, sir."

The speaker was silent.

"Well, Jeagerjacques, it looks like your little whore has arrived. Aren't you excited to see her?"

There was a soft knock on the metal door, and Kurotsuchi reached over to press a button on a console. The door slide open with a hiss, and in stepped a girl Xander could never forget.

SEXTA

It had been a half-day at school for Inoue Orihime, and Urahara had been kind enough to hook-up his special portal so she could visit her friends in Soul Society.

Ichigo, now captain of Fifth Division, and Rukia, his Vice-Captain after Momo had stepped down, had been off on official business, so Matsumoto had been the first one Orihime visited, and the Vice-Captain had been delighted to see her friend. Hitsugaya was somewhat less delighted, as Orihime's _visits_ always entailed Orihime's _cooking_.

In fact, the strawberry blonde had been in Tenth Division's communal kitchen when Matsumoto had appeared looking slightly troubled, bearing a summons to Twelfth Division from the Captain Commander. As no details had been included, Matsumoto was rightly nervous and had offered to accompany her friend.

Orihime had waved her off and set off by herself for the Twelfth's Headquarters, the cheery smile on her face not hiding her inner anxiety from her friends.

She had been relieved to arrive and see Renji, along with others from the Sixth and some from the Eighth, awaiting her arrival. He looked troubled and said he couldn't go with her, but even the presence of one of her friends was greatly relieving.

She followed one of the Twelfth Division shinigami through the headquarters until she was so turned around she doubted she could find her way out without help. Finally, they arrived at a thick metal door. The shinigami nodded to the guards on either side, the door slid open, and Orihime stepped into the room.

What she saw inside almost stopped her heart.

She was dimly aware of the creepy Twelfth Division captain standing in the corner, but what immediately demanded her attention was the man strapped to the table in the middle of the room.

_Grimmjow._

She was frozen to the spot, unable to do anything but stare at him as her heart, beating fiercely inside her chest, threatened to break out.

He was naked to his waist and covered in blood—from his face to his chest, with splatters on his jeans too. _Jeans_—why was he wearing human clothing? And the expression he wore on his face was one of extreme shock and vulnerability, something she had _never_ seen him display.

But what mattered more than any of these details was the simple fact that he was _alive_.

"Orihime," he breathed, and the way he said it was like a prayer.

It sent shivers down her spine.

SEXTA

Xander stared at the girl in front of him as tears welled in her eyes and chased each other down her pale cheeks. And he remembered.

_Remembered entering her room that night, her face as she looked up when he entered, the moonlight a corona of white on her magnificent hair. _

_It had been slow and silent, like poetry, their hair and sweat-flecked flesh mingling together under the white halls. _

_And when it was done, he stayed and watched her sleep, like gentle death, pale and peaceful._

_It was the first—and the last—time they had touched. _

Then he was back, and she was draped across his dirty chest, sobbing.

"You are dead," she said, and he thought about all the times he had seen her, and wanted to say something, but Kurotsuchi was still standing in the corner, watching.

Finally, her tears stopped and she drew away, her brown eyes scrutinizing his face, and he could see a question and an answer in her eyes.

"What is your name?" She asked, and he knew she knew, and how it hurt her that he wore the face of her love yet wasn't, at least completely.

"Alexander Lavelle Harris," he said, and he had never hated his name as much as he did in that minute.

"Tell me," she said, drawing a chair close.

And he did.

Maybe they would believe him because of her.

SEXTA

When it was done, Orihime's features hardened into something similar to Willow's Resolve Face. Her hands went to his wrists, then his waist, and on down, unbuckling the restraints until he was sitting up and massaging his tender flesh.

Kurotsuchi had made no move to stop her, but neither had he been forgotten.

When Orihime's task was done, she turned around to face the captain and stood up.

"I want you to release this man," she said, her tone commanding.

"And why would I do that?" He replied.

"You heard his story. You know he's not Grimmjow."

"Assuming I believed it and that I had the authorization to do such a thing," Kurotsuchi began, stepping forward, "you heard him as well as I. He is as much Grimmjow now as he is whoever he was before. We can't very well have an Espada—even half of one—running around loose."

"I want to be taken to the Captain Commander," Orihime replied, jaw tightening.

"There is no need," a new voice said, and all three occupants of the room turned to see as a newcomer stepped through the opening door.

It was the Captain Commander.

Flanked by his Vice Captain and other members of the First Division, the old man entered the lab and fixed his gaze on Xander and Orihime.

"I have heard young Xander's story," he said, "and our equipment, as well as my intuition, confirms it as truth. While I do not understand many of its events, I know that the Hellmouth is a strange place, and prone to interesting phenomenon."

Xander couldn't restrain a relieved sigh.

Yamamoto's eyes twinkled and Xander had the grace to look embarrassed.

"With these things in mind, I have decided on a course of action. Young Xander will be allowed to return to the Hellmouth, provided he follow the rules we will set before him. He must consent to be monitored, both by our equipment here and by someone of our choosing, who will accompany him. He must also make weekly reports on his activities and any development of Grimmjow's powers. If he becomes strong enough to affect those around him, he must wear a reiatsu dampener," now the Captain Commander looked straight at Xander.

"Can you follow these?"

"Yes," Xander nodded.

"Good. Any questions before we make preparations?"

"Just one," Xander said.

"Where the heck am I?"

**~About Three Hours Earlier, Sunnydale Library~ **

It had been about an hour since Xander, Buffy, and Willow had left and Giles was just finishing up his research for the first stage of Xander's second disguise ring. It was going to be a complicated piece of work, but then, they had expected that.

He was making a neat pile of the books he had gone through when a bang thundered through the library. Recognizing it as the main doors, Giles got quickly to his feet and tensed.

A moment later, Buffy came sprinting through the door, bleeding and near-hysterical.

"Giles!"

The first thing he noticed was the four deep gashes oozing blood on her right bicep.

The second was the panic in her eyes.

When she was closer, he could see that the wound was at least a half hour old, and Buffy's hair and clothes were covered in a fine layer of dust. The librarian quickly deduced she had run into trouble.

And by the look in her eyes, it hadn't been just her.

"Giles, Xander's gone!" The Slayer fairly screamed.

Alarm shot through Giles' body, but he knew panicking wouldn't do them any good so he made soothing motions and tried to direct Buffy to a chair.

"Xander's gone? Calm down, Buffy. Explain."

The girl was almost in the chair when she leapt up again.

"We don't have time for this, Giles! He could be in trouble!"

Giles put a firm hand on her shoulder and motioned again towards the chair.

"We'll make time. Your wound needs to be seen too, and you still haven't told me what happened. We won't be any help to Xander just rushing in."

Buffy looked a moment as if she would bolt, but she took a deep breath and sat down.

Giles pulled the first aid kit from under his and rolled up the remains of her shirt sleeve so he could get a better look at her wounds.

"Now tell me what happened."

**~Two Hours After Xander Woke Up, Fifth Division Headquarters, Soul Society~ **

"…then my brother, Kuchiki-taicho, was dispatched to pick you up, and you know the rest."

Xander stared hard at the petite shinigami in front of him as she finished the story and flipped shut the back cover of her sketch book. He caught a glimpse of a black bunny with blue hair being dragged through a crude rendition of the Soul Society gates by a white bunny with black hair and white clips.

"Any questions?" Rukia asked, folding her hands in her lap.

"Yeah," Xander said, planting his hands on the knees of his crossed legs.

"Has anyone told you your drawings suck?"

Rukia's left eyebrow twitched ominously, but before she had a chance to retaliate, a head full of orange hair popped into the room, followed by a stack of paperwork.

"I have. Everyday."

Rukia's head whipped around so fast Xander was sure she had whiplash. He was glad he couldn't see the glare she must be pinning Ichigo with.

He must have been used to it, because he kept on walking towards his office. As the door shut behind him, his voice floated back.

"I can't believe they let _Rukia_ do the explaining. Maybe they really _do_ want to get rid of him."

It was obviously meant to be heard.

Rukia was on her feet in an instant, and she would have gone after Ichigo if it weren't for the suspiciously blank look on Xander's face. She knew that look. He was laughing himself silly inside his head.

Deciding to salvage what little dignity to the two men had left her, the Fifth Division Vice Captain once again took her seat and fixed a sugary sweet smile on her face.

"Any _more_ questions?" She asked in a syrupy voice.

"I have the feeling you're not telling me everything you know."

Rukia sighed and dropped the fake smile.

"The Captain Commander told me to tell you only what you absolutely needed to know. There are lots of things about Soul Society and the War that are really sensitive. I think he wants to see how much you will remember on your own."

Xander frowned, but he knew he wouldn't be ringing anymore information out of her any time soon.

After the meeting with the Captain Commander, Xander had been escorted to Fifth Division and the recently returned Rukia and Ichigo to be filled in on shinigami, arrancar, and everything he was supposed to know but didn't.

Some of it struck chords in his mind, some of it didn't. If he hadn't been sitting there, in Soul Society, with a dead man/undead creature's memories whirling around in his head, he doubted he would have believed any of it.

There was a lot more to the world and the afterlife than he had thought.

"When can you send me back?" He asked finally. "I'm sure Buffy is having a fit right now."

"Buffy?" Rukia asked.

"The Slayer," Xander replied.

He had been surprised to find that the shinigami knew about the Slayer and the Hellmouth. Because of the Hellmouth's chaotic nature, no shinigami patrolled there. The strange energies of the Hellmouth made it too much of a risk. They did, however, monitor Sunnydale. That was how they had known about him.

Naturally, the Captain Commander was reluctant to send a shinigami down to follow Xander around, so it was decided that Orihime would accompany him as a transfer student to Sunnydale High.

Xander wasn't sure how he felt about Orihime.

She was both a woman he loved and a girl he had just met for the first time.

And he knew how painful it was for her to see her dead lover again, only to find out that he wasn't quite the same person anymore.

However, he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He was sure the only reason he was still alive and free was because Soul Society was intrigued by a human/arrancar hybrid and thought he could be useful.

Things could be worse. A _lot_ worse.

"As soon as all the paperwork has gone through, we should be able to send you back. I promise it will be before school starts."

"Thanks," Xander sighed, relieved.

Buffy was going to kill him when he got back.

* * *

Thank you for reading.

Miss Lullaby


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